


Beau & the Beast

by onedirectioninthetardis



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal, Beauty and the Beast, Chaptered, Disney, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Fluff, French, Friends to Lovers, Gay, LSD, M/M, Paris - Freeform, alcohol use, but very very different, fairytale, give it a chance?, psychadelics, tripping, which is also eventual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedirectioninthetardis/pseuds/onedirectioninthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where harry is the beast (but very different) and louis is a stripper at a gay club in Paris called 'the tavern'. harry and louis live in different realities.</p><p>i'm awful at editing so keep that in mind xx</p><p>you can also find me on  <a href="http://harryisproudoflouis.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. summary

Once upon a time, in a faraway land a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, there was one thing that he was not permitted. See, the Prince didn’t have a desire to find a princess and settle down. Sure, he wanted to settle down and have a family, and he wanted someone to rule with, but he never wished for that person to be a woman.  
  
The Prince knew the consequences of desiring men in his land, but he decided to test his power as a Prince, attempting to make a difference. Only, his father had him cast away to an abandoned, cursed castle to live out his days until his twenty-first birthday. If he could not learn to love a woman by then, he would forever be banished from his kingdom, locked away in his damned castle with few companions to keep him company.  
  
Prince Harry never had any hope of his situation changing, though, so he bitterly lived hidden away, dreaming of a place where he could love freely, far from the coldness and empty desires he was forever surrounded by.  
  



	2. i. the tavern

_(so, parts of this will be in french--very little-- and under any of the main parts, i will put an english translation in italics xx let me know if you have a question about any of the french parts!)_  
  
Once upon a time, in a faraway land a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, there was one thing that he was not permitted. See, the Prince didn’t have a desire to find a princess and settle down. Sure, he wanted to settle down and have a family, and he wanted someone to rule with, but he never wished for that person to be a woman. 

The Prince knew the consequences of desiring men in his land, but he decided to test his power as a Prince, attempting to make a difference. Only, his father had him cast away to an abandoned, cursed castle to live out his days until his twenty-first birthday. If he could not learn to love a woman by then, he would forever be banished from his kingdom, locked away in his damned castle with few companions to keep him company.

Prince Harry never had any hope of his situation changing, though, so he bitterly lived hidden away, dreaming of a place where he could love freely, far from the coldness and empty desires he was forever surrounded by.  
  
.....  
  
M o d e r n   d a y   P a r i s   
  
“El, I’m off to work! Don’t wait up!” Louis calls out before exiting his shared flat. He doesn’t hear anything, but he knows that his flatmate is studying for her finals.He doesn’t even have time to think of finals yet, what with work and his overall demanding life. 

Louis’ flatmate, Eleanor, has slowly become his best friend; his only friend. She is doing her semester abroad in Paris, and Louis has decided that he will quite miss her when she goes back to England.

He hurries down the sidewalk, checking the time on his phone every ten seconds, knowing that he’ll be late. He doesn’t know how he fell asleep after dinner, but he only has five minutes before ten, when his shift starts.

Louis hears murmurs as he passes people on the street, most of them probably remarking his tight shirt, or the feminine way that he walks, but

Louis doesn’t mind. If he minded, then he would have definitely started looking for a different job.

When Louis arrives at the Tavern, he’s ten minutes late, and has started to work up a sweat from jogging. His backpack is slung over his shoulder, and the bouncer shakes his head as Louis slides in through the side door.

“Always late, Louis. You’re lucky you’re the star!” Calum yells after him, stopping someone to check their ID.

Louis sneaks down the hallway, hoping to avoid his boss, but he comes face-to-face with him just before he reaches the dressing room. He blocks the door with his long limbs, towering over Louis’ small frame.

“Louis, dear!” Nick speaks sweetly, but Louis sees right through that, “Do you happen to have the time?”   
Louis shrugs understandably, attempting to pass Nick, “I know I’m late, okay? I’m sorry.”

His apology isn’t heartfelt, but it never is. 

“You’re a cocky little shit, Louis. I get it, alright? I know that you’re confident, and you should be. Just at least try to act like this job matters to you.

Louis rolls his eyes as Nick steps aside, following him into the changing area. Louis takes off his tank top and sweatpants, stuffing them into his assigned locker. He stands in front of the mirror, wearing his tight white boxer briefs, arranging his shuffled hair.

“Nick,” he doesn’t try to hide his disdain; never does, “You know I don’t care about this job. I’m a fucking stripper, alright? It pays my bills and puts me through Uni, but it isn’t my dream or anything. Get over yourself.”

Nick scoffs, risking at Louis as he approaches him. Louis ignores his presence and adjusts his bulge within his pants.

“Louis,” Nick stands just behind him, breathing against his neck hotly as he pats his bum, “I know that you need me; It’s clear as day.” Nick slides his hand around Louis’ thigh, grazing his hips, “Besides, without this job, you’d be so deep in school debts that you wouldn’t be able to breathe. Plus, I always leave you with a little fun money.”

Louis shoves him back with his shoulder testily, “You need me more than I need you, Nick, and we both know that. Now, I’m ready to go on stage, so unless you have something else perverted to say, I’d like to get in and out of here as soon as possible so I can clean off the feel of this place.”  
Nick throws his hands up, allowing Louis to pass, but watches him intently as he leaves. 

Louis walks onto the floor, glancing around for his well-paying regulars. He sees a few; the scummiest and creepiest old men that he’s ever come into contact with. And unfortunately, that’s exactly what he has to do: come into contact with them.  
Louis leans against the bar for a moment, gaining Michael’s attention, “Psst, Mikey, chéri!”

Michael, the wild-haired bartender, hurries over to Louis, taking a break from the many customers seated before him.

“What is it, Lou?” Michael keeps an eye out for Nick, but doesn’t see him.

“I just need something to make this night fucking bearable. Got anything?” Louis pleads, his best puppy-dog eyes in effect.

Michael looks around again, really bringing more attention to himself if anything, “Here, it’s my last bit of coke, so you owe me, mate.”

Louis takes the tiny dime-bag from Michael’s hands and leans over the bar to kiss his cheek, “Absolutely. You are my favorite Aussie, mon ami!”

Michael blushes, yelling after Louis who is running to the restroom, “Yeah, tell that to Ash and Luke. They’ll love it!”

Louis slips into the single-stall bathroom, locking the door behind him. He chuckles to himself about the amount of time he’s spent avoiding the floor, and decides that he can’t take up much more. Louis lays out the contents of the bag on top of a paper towel, using the edge of the plastic bag to line up the white powder as evenly as possible. Louis leans down and snorts every last bit in one go, jumping up and down to distract himself from the cold burning.

Louis wraps the baggie in a paper towel and throws it out, washing his hand and using the remnants of water to wipe under his nostrils. Once he feels like he might be able to handle the men waiting outside, he opens the door and makes his way backstage for his grand entrance.  
Louis meets the other dancers backstage, nodding curtly to the few that he doesn’t really associate with, and eventually meeting up with Luke.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Louis apologizes, feeling quite jittery already.

“It’s alright, mate. No harm done. You bought us a little time,” Luke teases.

He leans against the nearest wall and starts to stretch out his hamstrings, “Yeah, it’s a fucking Wednesday; it’s not like we’re making big bucks tonight anyway.”

Louis shrugs, pacing back and forth as they wait for the DJ to begin their set.

When the boys hear the beginning of the all-too-familiar song, Louis pats Luke on the back, “Here’s to another night in hell.”

He scoffs, lining up to go on stage. 

“Tout d'abord, nous sommes heureux de vous présenter notre plus jeune danseuse. Tout le chemin de l'Australie, voici petit Bambi!” Ashton’s voice booms throughout the club.  
 _“First, we are pleased to introduce our youngest dancer. All the way from Australia, here is little Bambi!”_  
  
Luke runs out, and without fail, Louis giggles to himself. He never expects the way Luke moves, despite his gangly appearance. A couple other boys who are a part of the main act are introduced and run on stage before it is Louis’ turn.  
  
“Et le dernier mais non le moindre, l'homme de l'heure, et sans doute la raison pour laquelle vous êtes tous ici, Beau!”  
 _“And last, but certainly not least, the man of the hour, and probably the reason that you are all here, Beau!”_  
  
.....  
  
By the time Louis is able to leave the club, it’s four o’clock in the morning and he’s absolutely exhausted. He wants nothing more than to go to sleep, but he has class in four hours. He walks into his flat by half past four, and he’s studying in the kitchen for his Shakespeare class until a quarter past seven.  
  
That’s when Eleanor wakes up, “Morning Lou,” she yawns, immediately turning on the coffee maker.  
  
“Hey, El. Hope I didn’t wake you when I got in,” he stops looking at his book, because it’s all looking blurry by now anyways.  
  
“No, you know that I’m a deep sleeper,” she opens the cabinet to retrieve sugar, and pulls down Louis’ favorite tea as well, “A cuppa, I would assume?”  
  
“Yes please,” he drops his head to the counter, hoping that the day would miraculously be over.  
  
The next thing he knows, Eleanor is placing a hot cup of tea in front of him, and shaking his arm to wake him, “Sorry, Lou, but I’m not letting you miss finals.”  
  
He shakes the sleep away and nods, “No, thanks. I need the push. I thought that some coke would do the trick, but I was still exhausted by the time I got home. Wasn’t enough, I guess.”  
  
Eleanor rolls her eyes, “Well, today is the last day of the school week, so how’s about we get smashed tonight?”  
  
Louis sighs, feeling his eyes shutting on him, “Of course. As long as I get a nap in before then. I’ll show you the night of your life, ma colombe.”  
  
Her face contorts as she thinks, “That one means...”  
  
“My dove, love,” Louis giggles to himself, “And that rhymed!”  
  
Eleanor laughs sleepily, “And you’re delirious. Alright, I’m excited to go out tonight, but I have to get through Civics and Biology first. Hurry up so we can take the Metro together.”  
  



	3. ii. the trip

u n e d i t e d  (for now)  
  
Louis’ exams pass quickly, and he leaves school not even caring how he’s done. He waits for Eleanor outside of her Biology class and leans against the nearest wall.  
  
He watches as couples of all sorts roam the halls: holding hands, kissing, fighting.  
  
Louis doesn’t really understand relationships. They’re always shit in the end. He’s dated his fair share of men and even a few women, but it’s never felt right. there’s never been that one person who made him understand what the purpose of relationships really are. And he doesn’t really have hope of finding that.  
  
Louis things fairytales are great and all, but they just aren’t realistic. He’s just content in living vicariously through his favorite books, and through his writing, through characters that are clever, volatile, and exciting. Life just isn’t like that. You can’t expect to meet people who have the same mental capacity as you, and who find the same things funny, or who share the same outlook on life.  
  
He’s just come to terms with all of that, but still hopes that one day he will find someone who is just a bit more enthralling than his stories and drugs.  
  
“Lou!” Eleanor jogs over, scantron in her hand, “I got a ninety-five!”  
  
Louis’ face lights up as he pulls her into a hug, “That’s lovely! You deserve it.”  
  
She squeals, hugging him back while still jumping.  
  
“We have to celebrate, Louis. Let’s go home and take naps, and tonight we’re going crazy. Deal?”  
  
Louis smiles fondly at his best, and really only, friend, “Deal.”  
  
  
..........  
  
“C’mon, El. You can’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it!”  
  
Louis holds out the two strips of acid that he’d been saving for a while. Eleanor shakes her head, taking another gulp of her fruity drink.  
  
The noise at the rave is unbearable when Louis’ sober. It just reminds him of work, which is really depressing. The music booms, and Eleanor keeps looking around to make sure no one is watching them.  
  
“You’re ruining the vibes, ma mie. Please, just do it! You’ll like it! Just don’t overthink it,” he presses, refusing to give up until the strip is on her tongue.   
  
Call it peer pressure if you’d like, but Eleanor has grown as a person from being friends with Louis, and he takes pride in that. New experiences are what give a person depth.  
  
She sighs, resting her hand on the table, “Fine, give it here,” she gives in.  
  
“Nuh uh,” Louis tisks, “Tongue out.”  
  
She looks around nervously again before sticking her tongue out at Louis sarcastically. Before she can change her mind, he places the psychedelic paper on her tongue and does the same with his own.  
  
Once it dissolves, the pair of them sit back on one of the velvet couches, and wait for it to take effect.   
  
.........  
  
And take effect, it does. Louis doesn’t know where to look, and Eleanor’s eyes are glued to the lights on the wall.  
  
Louis’ laughing on the inside, because this is Eleanor’s first time tripping, and she’s already in some sort of wicked trance that he has become so detached from over the years. His trips are scarcely intense, and sometimes just confusing. When he does have a good trip, it’s usually because he imagines a place that doesn’t exist, more than just the trippy visuals that usually come along with LSD. He truly escapes into another world.  
  
Only a rave isn’t the best place to do that. Eleanor is doing it right, and Louis couldn’t be more proud. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to trip hard like that; not when the music is so loud, and the lights are so bright. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t focus, and that’s a problem when there’s so much going on around him.  
  
So, Louis does all that he can to escape, closing his eyes and resting his head on Eleanor’s shoulder. Anything for familiarity as he drifts deeper into a comatose state that he wants to be far from. It feels like he’s falling, and the music starts to drown out. It isn’t the escape that he wanted, and he’s fighting it in his head. There’s little he can do, though, as everything goes black.  
  
In the darkness of his mind, Louis begins to see shimmers of color glowing transparently; shades and hues that he’s never seen. It’s so unreal that it must be reality, because his brain could never form such beautiful colors without knowing that they exist. His skin tingles and burns as he feels his veins pumping. It’s almost as if the drug has completely replaced his blood, making him feel warm and pliant, so unable to move.  
  
The colors dance in his mind so fluidly, as if they are intertwined, holding onto each other, and moving together perfectly. They form unfamiliar shapes, creating vague stories and ideas within Louis’ mind that he knows he’ll never remember, and that’s okay. They live for the time being, and will pass as they should.  
  
By the time Louis opens his eyes again, the rave is only half-filled, and there is much more room to breathe. He glances over to Eleanor, who is staring at the ceiling, laughing distantly and mumbling phrases of obscurity, and all Louis can do is smile. He feels happy, but it isn’t the kind of happy that is long-lasting. He knows that, but he can’t help but to smile anyway. This is his release, his happy place.  
  
“El,” he drags on, hopefully loudly enough for her to hear, “M’gonna go to the toilets. I’ll be back; don’t go anywhere.”  
  
She just nods, her head lolling from side to side as Louis grips the material of the couch to push himself up. When he stands, the room spins, in a comforting way, and Louis pretends that he’s connected to the earth, and can feel it spinning around it’s axis. Somewhere deep down, he knows that’s untrue, but it feels right in the moment. He feels more important than life, yet so unimportant that it wouldn’t matter if he died. This is where his trips typically become confusing and random.  
  
Louis makes it back to the restrooms with ease, checking that the door closes behind him. He doesn’t do anything, though, but lean against the cool tile wall, his arms behind his back and his head rolling forward. His eyes are fluttering open and shut, different things entering his mind each time that they do. At one point, he swears he smells cigarette smoke even though he didn’t think anyone was in the room with him.  
  
“Hey, you got any extra cigs?” he asks, careless as to whether he imagined the smell in the first place.  
  
“No, mate,” a voice responds, “Sorry, I don’t. Have to roll ‘em myself, and I don’t have enough tobacco to last me until February if I share.”  
  
Louis thinks that this response is random, and a bit ambiguous, but he decides to go along with it. For all he knows, the voice is in his mind.  
  
“Merde; I really want a smoke now,” Louis curses, kicking his foot back to the wall. His eyes roll open, and the lights seem a bit brighter. He looks ahead and sees a shadow in the mirror over the sink.   
  
“What the-“ Louis stumbles closer to the mirror, arm outstretched. He falls over the sink, though, and his hand slams into the glass.  
  
“Fuck, you okay?” The voice speaks again.  
  
“Mon dieu; how are you- what are you-“ Louis staggers back, grasping his chest with one hand and feeling for the wall with his other.  
  
“No, mate, it’s- um, don’t freak out or anything,” the voice says as he takes a step forward. He’s in the light now, and Louis thinks he’s really quite beautiful. His features are swarthy, his voice enigmatic and yet still welcoming.  
  
Louis doesn’t know what it is that makes him approach the mirror again, but he tells himself that it’s because it’s all in his head.  
  
He walks slowly, cautious of his surroundings, and stops at the sink, leaning against it warily, “Who are you?”  
  
The man walks closer as well, so that he’s very easy to see, “M’names Zayn.”  
  
Louis nods, still lost beyond all belief, “And where are you right now?”  
  
Zayn smirks and shakes his head, “I can’t tell you that. Sorry, mate; there’s just some lines you don’t want me to cross.”  
  
Louis gulps at the cryptic response, biting on the inside of his cheek habitually, “And if I do? Then-“  
  
“Zayn!” Louis is cut off by another voice, “Where the hell are ya?”  
  
Zayn drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out quickly before turning to Louis, “Look, just leave, okay? Don’t stay here.”  
  
Louis’ eyebrows furrow as Zayn disappears, a darkness falling over him like a sheet, “Wait!” Louis yells, but it seems futile. That is until he hears footsteps.  
  
“Zayn,” he can hear still if he leans forward, but it’s muffled, “What are you doing in the West Wing, mate?”  
  
“Oh, come off it,” Zayn responds, and Louis notes the difference in their accents.  
  
“Were you looking at all the pretty things among the real world? You act all tough, but I know you wish your life was normal,” The voice draws closer, and Louis considers leaving like Zayn told him to. Only, if this is his created reality, then he’s going to see what his mind has come up with.  
  
“Of course I fucking do,” Zayn responds, his tone short and heated.  
  
“Oh, don’t be a git,” the other retorts, still getting closer to where Louis is, “Where were you peaking today?”  
  
“Don’t-“ and before Zayn could say anything else, the darkness dissipates, and Louis comes face to face with a blonde fellow, bright blue eyes large in shock.  
  
“Well, hello!” the man greets Louis with much more exuberance and cheerfulness than Zayn probably is capable of.  
  
Louis clears his throat, still unsure of what is going on, “Um- Hi, I’m Louis.”  
  
“And I’m Niall. Where might you be?” the blonde boy asks casually.  
  
“Well,” Louis crosses his arms, a bit more confident now, “I asked the same question and got no response from your brooding friend over there.”  
  
“I’m not brooding-“ Zayn is cut off by Niall shoving him away.  
  
“Well, fair enough then,” Niall states plainly, “We are stuck in an enchanted castle in England, and have been for some time. You are the first person we have come into contact with in at least a year now, so good on that, mate.”  
  
Louis had previously believed that he couldn’t be any more confused, but he’s now been proven very wrong. His blank stare is broken when Niall knocks on the mirror, “What? Don’t believe me?”  
  
“Mon ami, I’m tripping on LSD, so I’m not too keen on what’s real at the moment,” Louis conveys hesitantly. The two boys in the mirror simply laugh, carrying on like children.  
  
“Well, we’re quite real. In fact,” Niall says, “Why don’t I let you through? I’ll give you a tour; the whole bit.”  
  
“No!” Zayn protests in a choked scream, “No, Louis. Don’t listen to him. If you come through that mirror, you won’t be able to leave.”  
  
“Zayn, stop,” Niall practically whispers, “He could be our only chance.”  
  
“It isn’t fair, Ni! You can’t-“  
  
“Let him decide,” Niall raises a brow at Zayn before turning back to Louis.  
  
His lips are parted as he listens to the two bicker, unaware of what they are really saying.  
  
He contemplates his options, which are far away and unfamiliar. It’s in his head, he tells himself, it’s all part of the most realistic trip he’s ever experienced. If he stops now, who knows what he could be missing out on.  
  
“I want to come through,” Louis asserts, “I’d like to enter your world, or whatever.”  
  
Zayn immediately shakes his head, pacing behind Niall frantically, “Bad idea, Louis. You’ll regret it.”  
  
“No, the master will like him; over time, I know he will,” Niall declares, more to himself than anyone.  
  
“C’mon, Louis,” Niall directs at him pointedly, “When I say go, grab my arm and hold tight.”  
  
Louis nods, his mind still jumbled and littered with colors and shapes, “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“One,” Niall extends his arm as Louis holds onto the sink to balance himself.  
  
“Two,” Niall flattens his palm on the mirror, a smile still plastered on his face. Louis feels the need to emulate his grin, if only to assure myself.  
  
“Three, get ready,” Niall nods, beginning to push his hand against the glass. Louis places his hand over where Niall’s imprint is, mimicking his actions.  
  
“Go!” Niall screams and everything goes white for a moment, as if a spark of electricity set off a storm of lights.  
  
Louis doesn’t feel anything, though. It simply feels as though he’s floating, Niall’s hand around his wrist being the only thing that has him grounded.  
  
After what seems like minutes, a faint voice enters Louis’ mind, “Almost there,” it echoes, “Just hold on.”  
  
Louis does hold on, and Niall’s voice grows louder, repeating the same thing over and over.  
  
The space around his goes white again, and Louis shuts his eyes tight until he feels his body thud against a hard surface.  
  
“Jesus, Niall,” Zayn quibbles, “I can’t believe you.”  
  
Louis’ eyes flit open to find Niall’s right over his, “Welcome to Cheshire Palace, Louis.”  
  



	4. iii. the palace

Louis wakes up again, this time in an oversized bed, blankets piled high. He’s sweating profusely and the room is dark.  
  
“Hello?” he calls out to no one in particular. He doesn’t know where is, so it isn’t like he can be very specific.  
  
“Anyone?” he asks again, trying to kick the covers down off of him.  
  
“Shhh,” he hears a muffled whisper before a door knob turns, “Don’t say anything.”  
  
Louis doesn’t know whether he should listen or scream louder. When a dim light flickers on, revealing a broad man in a waist coat, he’s still unsure of what to do.  
  
“Who the fuck are you?” Louis still whispers, covering himself with blankets once again when he realizes that he’s practically naked.  
  
The man stretches his arms out tentatively, waving them in reassurance, “Don’t worry; I’m Liam and I’m not going to hurt you. You’re just confused right now, I understand. Especially with the state you were in. I’m here to help.”  
  
Louis is more unsure than ever now, but there’s something comforting about the other man. He’s big and brawny, but his main concern seems to be Louis’ safety, so he still decides against screaming.  
  
“Just-“ Louis swallows, his mouth extremely dry. Drier than it usually is after a long trip, “Where am I and how long have I been here?”  
  
Liam sits on the edge of the bed, careful to notice how Louis shrugs farther away, “Well, you’re at Cheshire Palace and you’ve been here for about eight hours now. How do you feel?”  
  
Louis shakes his head, his memory more than fuzzy. He couldn’t place what the hell happened, but Cheshire Palace is just ringing in his mind, “I’m sorry- I...”  
  
Louis stops then, leaning back against the fluffy pillows again, crossing his arms in an attempt to think. The moment he brings one hand up to massage his temples, Liam is standing and ringing out a rag in a basin.  
  
“Here, place this on your forehead; I’m sure your head doesn’t feel too great,” Liam approaches Louis’ side of the bed slowly, awaiting any protest. Louis only reaches out for the rag, though, so Liam hands it to him gratefully.  
  
Once the cool, damp rag is over his forehead, and partially over his closed eyes, he takes a deep breath and tries to speak again, “Can you explain what happened? My mind is a bit fuzzy.”  
  
“Well, there’s not too much to remember. Anyone who comes through that portal is always at a loss for memory the next day- In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever remembered the actual journey. But, that’s beside the point. Niall said that you were quite keen on joining us, though it was quite irresponsible of him-“  
  
“Wait,” Louis sits up abruptly, the towel falling onto his lap, “Niall. That sounds so fucking familiar. The blonde chap, yeah? Where did I meet him?”  
  
Louis thinks as hard as he can, unable to place anything substantial to those bright blue eyes and frosty blonde hair.  
  
Liam sits down at Louis’ feet, fairly certain that the other lad won’t smack him for coming closer now, “I’m not sure where you were, but he pulled you through a reflection to be certain. It has to be a reflection. How high were you? I understand not remembering the portal, but you could not have made such a decision with a sound mind if you can’t even remember it.”   
  
Liam stands in anger, fists balling at his sides, “How dare he bring someone else through without them even knowing what they’re getting themselves into! You had no idea! Jesus christ, I thought Zayn was being melodramatic. Louis-“ he sits back down, his hands reaching for Louis’ to grasp his full attention, “I’m so sorry, Louis. I really am.”  
  
Louis feels his heart race a mile a minute as Liam stands up again, pacing the floor of the large room around him. Liam is tugging at his hair and muttering curses under his breath, “We just have to make the best of a shit situation. Louis, I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to cooperate if you want to survive.”  
  
“Survive?” Louis gulps, gripping the sheets in his lap, “Mon die, what have I gotten myself into?”  
  
Louis passes out again, for the third time that night, and Liam stands guard in front of his occupied room, aware of the consequences he would face if the Master found him. He wouldn’t be able to control his wrath, and Liam will not let an innocent bystander that got tricked into Niall’s foolish games face the brunt of it.  
  
........  
  
“I can’t fucking believe you!” Zayn shoves Niall when they’re in the kitchen. Perrie is stirring a beef stew in a pot on the corner stove, maintaining focus on what she’s cooking. She’s definitely listening in, though, and she’s already listened to Zayn’s rant. While she agrees that Niall was being a bit foolish, she feels bad for the punishment Zayn will give him. Not to mention when Liam or the Master get to him.  
  
“Back off, mate,” Niall steps aside, stealing yet another piece of bread from the counter. That’s what irritates Zayn the most, the way he brushes it off like none of it matters.  
  
“No!” Zayn roars, shoving him again, harder this time, “You ruined some innocent guy’s fucking life! He did nothing! He’s a nice lad, and you’ve screwed him over. I get it, Niall. We’re all fucking bored in this hell hole! But, you can’t just drag other people down to make your life suck less!”  
  
Perrie dares to turn around, and when she does, she finds Niall pressed against the wall, Zayn holding him there by his throat. She throws her hands in the air, tossing the ladle to the side before removing her apron, “Zayn, let him go!”  
  
Perrie places her hands on her best friend’s shoulders and tries to gently pull him away. Zayn doesn’t budge, though, only clenching his hand harder, making Niall choke on the bread he had just swallowed.  
  
“Zayn, don’t do this. Just let him go and I’ll pour you a drink,” Perrie pleads, gently massaging his shoulders. Zayn physically calms at that, and Perrie breathes out a sigh of relief when he removes his grasp from Niall and steps away. Niall smirks though like the smart ass that he is.  
  
As he saunters off to the hallway, he growls at the darker man, “Fucking pussy-whipped, you are.”  
  
Zayn almost chases him down through the door, but Perrie’s hand is still on his arm, and when he faces her, she looks stricken.  
  
“I’m sorry, Pez. I didn’t mean to; he just makes me so livid sometimes!” He apologizes, pulling her into a quick hug.  
  
“You just have to try and control your temper, Z. We’re all sick of being here, yeah? Just try to breathe through it,” Perrie comforts him for a few more seconds before turning to the cupboard and pulling out one of the few bottles of liquor within the castle.  
  
“Just have a seat, and I’ll make you a bowl of stew when it’s done. Talk to me,” Perrie hands him a small glass of whiskey and turns back to supper, tying her apron around her waist again.  
  
Zayn takes a long swig and slumps down in an old wooden chair that he pulls next to the stove, “He’s a nice guy, Perrie. He doesn’t deserve this torture.”  
  
She nods knowingly, “No one does.”  
  
Zayn reaches over and gently grazes her arm, “I didn’t mean that you did. Liam doesn’t either. Niall and I do, though. We’re more guilty than he ever was.”  
  
“No,” Perrie drops the ladle in frustration, turning to face Zayn, “You don’t deserve it. Niall doesn’t. The master doesn’t. Just get that out of your head. No one deserves to be trapped here! You’re not a bad man, Zayn.”  
  
Zayn’s eyes downcast and Perrie places her hands on either side of his face, begging him to listen, “Look at me, Z.”  
  
He glances up into her piercing blue eyes and wonders how he deals with the pain of being alone when she’s always nearby. He loves her too much to put her through a relationship with him, though. That’s why they have to stay friends. He has to save her from himself.  
  
“We’ve all made mistakes, Zayn. That’s why we’re all stuck here with him. But, we have to remember that those punishments were decided by an evil man who locked away and cursed his own son. You can’t blame yourself when the situation was completely out of anyone else’s control. I hope that one day, the king has to live the same fate he has cast upon us all. Sure, Liam was only ever guilty of trying to help the Master, but you were only guilty of trying to support your family. You should be proud if anything.”  
  
Zayn stomps his foot, trying ever so hard to take Perrie’s previous advice and breathe through the anger instead of lashing out, “But, how can I be proud when I don’t even know if they’re still alive? What if it was all for nothing?”  
  
Perrie kneels down in front of Zayn and gathers his hands in her own, “You can’t think that way.”  
  
He just sighs through gritted teeth, his heart pounding, “I stand in front of that damned mirror every day, and I have yet to catch a glimpse of them. Instead, I end up in seedy night club toilets and such. This new guy, Louis, he’s fucking French. I’m not even seeing through mirrors in the right country anymore! Why, Perrie? Why!”  
  
He starts to stand up, but she presses her arms into his thighs, keeping him on the chair, “Who knows, Zayn. Don’t give up hope, though. We’ll get out of here one day.”  
  
Zayn almost retorts with a smart ass remark, but instead he just kisses her forehead, “Thanks, Pez.”  
  
She grins in accomplishment, even though she knows deep down that Zayn is still just as bitter and resentful as ever, “Now, I’ll pour you some soup before I bring a bowl to the new kid. He won’t like throw it at me, right?”  
  
Zayn shrugs and follows behind her, standing next to the hot stove, “Doubtful, but he does seem to be a sassy one.”  
  
“Lord help us all. As if we needed another character in this place,” Perrie giggles distantly, handing a small bowl to Zayn before pouring another larger one.  
  
“I see how it is. Getting him on your good side by giving him more soup than me. You’ll have me replaced in no time!” Zayn teases, pinching her side and causing her to yelp.  
  
“As if,” she grins, sticking her tongue out soon afterward, “By the way, you’ve already spilt some on your shirt, you klutz.”  
  
He looks down and spots a brown stain on his white button-up. He curses himself and sets down the bowl, beginning to take it off as Perrie leaves the room.   
  
She may or may not peek through the crack in the door until he’s shirtless in the kitchen.  
  
........  
  
When Perrie approaches the Louis’ door, Liam is sitting outside on the floor, face in his hands.  
  
“Li,” she whispers and his head shoots up.  
  
“Christ, Perrie,” he sighs, standing up quickly, “You scared the living daylights out of me.”  
  
Perrie smiles, showing off the tray in her hands, “Brought our guest some grub. How is he?”  
  
Liam shrugs and rests his hand on the doorknob, “Not well, I suppose. He passed out again. He didn’t remember much, Perrie. I’m worried about how this is going to turn out.”  
  
Perrie frowns and sets the tray down on the dresser in the hall, “Liam, we’ll have to make the best of it. I’m sure he’s a reasonable lad. He’ll have to deal with it too. It’s not ideal for anyone, but here we are.”  
  
Liam takes a step toward Perrie and she pulls him into a hug as he mutters, “He’s going to kill me. The Master. He’s going to hate me.”  
  
“He’d better not,” Perrie scolds the man who isn’t even present, “He’s the reason you’re here, Liam. And you know he’s aware of that. You’re probably the only person here that he loves. Don’t worry too much about his reaction.”  
  
Liam sighs anxiously, “Perr, it’s not that simple. He’s such a bitter man nowadays. So much worse than it’s been all these years. He’s lost hope. We’re all okay until we lose hope.”  
  
Perrie nods slowly, “Okay, but Zayn was hopeless, too. He’s getting better-“  
  
“Perrie,” Liam’s tone is serious, “You know how I feel about that. You need to be more careful around him.”  
  
“He’s not a bad man,” she reassures, “He cares about me. We’re friends.”  
  
Liam gives her an assuming look, well aware of Perrie’s ulterior feelings for Zayn, “That’s neither here nor there. Help me with this, Perrie. I’m at a loss.”  
  
Perrie huffs and takes the tray back in her hands, “Open the door. You check on the Master and keep him somewhere else. I’ll take care of Louis.”  
  
Liam hesitates but she nods expectantly until he goes to open the door, “Are you sure about this? We can always just let him blame me.”  
  
Perrie shakes her head, “Absolutely not, we’re all together in this. We’ll face him together. Just butter him up.”  
  
Perrie winks and Liam offers a small smile before opening the door and staring longingly as Perrie enters the dark bedroom.   
  
“Here goes nothing,” she whispers to herself as she approaches the sleeping stranger.   
  
Meanwhile, Louis dreams of the far off place that he still calls home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments would be very nice since i'm still planning out this story xx 
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://www.harryisproudoflouis.tumblr.com)


	5. iv. the master

Perrie tries to wake Louis cautiously, but the man sits up with a scream, shifting his gaze in confusion.  
  
“Qui êtes-vous?” he mumbles and Perrie sits on the edge of his bed, the tray of food lying on the nightstand.  
  
“I’m sorry, love,” Perrie giggles, “I don’t know any French.”  
  
“Sorry,” he rubs his eyes, looking around the room again, “Forgot where I was for a moment. I asked who you were.”  
  
“Oh!” She extends a hand, “I’m Perrie Edwards. I keep this place in order for the most part. Which means, I feed everyone and clean up after them. Bunch of slobs, they are.”  
  
Louis grumbles, sitting back against the pillow, “I’m Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
“I know,” she grins, reaching for the bowl of stew, “And I brought you some food, Louis. I’ll bet you’re starved.”  
  
He thinks for a moment, but finally nods, “Mon dieu, I really am. Don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten.”  
  
“Much too long, I’m sure,” Perrie smiles, waiting until he’s comfortably seated to hand him the bowl.  
  
“Merci,” Louis murmurs, taking a sip of the soup and humming, “Très bien.”   
  
“I actually got that part. You’re welcome, and thank you! It’s a favorite in the house. They send supplies from the castle every month, but it’s never enough to really enjoy food.”  
  
Louis’ brows furrow in confusion, “Well, it’s very good either way.”  
  
Perrie grins distantly, “Would you like anything else?”  
  
Louis shakes his head, but pauses, “Maybe some information?”  
  
Perrie leans onto her elbow, stretching half-way across the bed, “I’ll tell you as much as I can.”  
  
Louis nods, “Fair enough.”  
  
“What would you like to know?” Perrie runs her finger along the design in the familiar comforter. She’s made this bed a thousand times. Not for any good reason; usually just because one of the lads passed out in this room, typically drunk. She supposes she was always just hopeful that the room would be good for something at some point.  
  
She hopes Louis can be that something.  
  
“Well,” he considers the situation, “Why are you here?”  
  
“Me personally?” Perrie inquires, unsure if she’s ready to get that personal. She quickly tries to think of a simple explanation.  
  
“No, not necessarily,” Louis takes another sip, “Like everyone. Why are you all here? What is this place exactly?”  
  
“Ah yes,” Perrie blushes, slightly relieved, “Well long story short, our master was banished to this castle for reasons he should tell you himself if the time comes, and we’ve all been banished here for different reasons in order to serve him during his sentence.”  
  
Louis chuckles, “Banished to a château. Is he a spoilt prince or something?”  
  
“Or summat,” Perrie mutters under her breath, “He’s a prince, but I’d say he’s more persecuted than spoilt.”  
  
Louis tries not to laugh again. He supposes he can’t judge without actually knowing the story.  
  
“Sorry for laughing,” he adds, “It’s just that when you’re degraded to doing terrible things for money, just so you can go to school, it’s hard to feel bad for someone who is handed everything on a silver platter.”  
  
Louis takes another big sip of soup and glances up at Perrie through lidded eyes.  
  
“Trust me, I understand,” she sighs, “But he isn’t like that.”  
  
“What is this mystérieux master’s name anyway?” Louis asks between bites, bewildered by how the bowl is already nearly gone.  
  
Perrie sits up, brushing strands of hair out of her face, “His name is Harry, but you must never call him that, okay?”  
  
“And why not?” Louis wonders aloud.  
  
“Because,” Perrie rolls her eyes and scoffs, “I said so. I’ve lived in this castle for years and I don’t even call him that. He’s Master Styles to us, or just Master. If anyone has the pleasure of calling him by his first name, it’s going to be Liam.”  
  
Louis shrugs and finishes the soup, “Do I want to meet this Master?”  
  
Perrie squints, mulling over the question, “You might not want to meet him, but you’ll like to know him. I promise, he’s an extraordinary man if you get past the tough exterior.”  
  
“I don’t like the sound of this guy,” Louis kicks the covers down as Perrie stands up.  
  
“Well,” she laughs, “You won’t have much of a choice. Once you’re here, you’re stuck here my friend. You’re best bet is to like him.”  
  
Louis swallows thickly and shifts his legs so that they are draped over the side of the large mattress, “I don’t force myself to like people, ma cherie. I’ll give him a chance, though.”  
  
Perrie notices his uneasy expression and rests her hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”  
  
Louis doesn’t try to smile; he’s a bit too bitter to make other people feel better, “Thanks, for what it’s worth.”  
  
Perrie pulls him into a crushing hug before he can even stand entirely. Louis gasps at the gesture, but easily falls into the feeling, appreciating the affection after such a traumatic day.  
  
“I need the W.C.,” Louis mumbles, still being embraced by the unfamiliar girl he’s only just met.  
  
She simply giggles, “Ah, yes the toilets. I’ll take you there. It’s the next door over.”  
  
_________  
  
Liam cautiously walks up the next flight of stairs, fully aware of where the Master is. He’s hidden away in his tower, probably moping around like he usually does.  
  
Liam just doesn’t know what to tell him now. He thinks of the possibilities, “Sir, I’m sorry but we have a surprise visitor,” or, “Master, someone whom I will not name brought a guest into the palace.”  
  
Nothing sounds right in his head, though, and his heart is racing much too quickly to think straight.  
  
So, when he knocks on the door, he’s still not sure what he’ll say.  
  
“Who goes there?” The Master’s voice booms, and Liam thinks to himself that he already sounds irritated.  
  
“It’s Liam, sir,” he tells him softly.  
  
The door swings open and the man behind the door is grumbling for him to enter.  
  
“What do you want, Liam?” he mumbles, sitting back in his large plush chair, a nearly empty bottle of scotch next to him.  
  
“Checking on you, sir,” Liam gulps, “Anything you need?”  
  
“Cut the crap, mate,” The Master chuckles, pouring two glasses of scotch in small tumblers, “Just talk to me like old times.”  
  
He leans over and hands Liam a glass, beckoning him to sit in a chair opposite him. Liam nods and sits down, waiting for his master to take a sip before he does.  
  
Liam notices the glint in his master’s eyes before he hears the soft sobs that follow.  
  
“Harry,” he whispers, resting his hands on the armrests, ready to stand.  
  
“No!” Harry yells, “Stay there. I mean it, just talk about the good times, Li.”  
  
Liam swallows thickly and stays seated, resting back in the chair, even though his muscles are tense.  
  
“Wh- What do you want to talk about?” Liam stutters, nervous, having never seen Master Styles this way. He’s only getting worse.  
  
“Talk about my sister’s wedding,” Harry sniffles, adding for good measure a quiet, “Please.”  
  
“Alright,” Liam thinks back, finding it painful to remember the days of freedom, “Well, it was a warm day, middle of summer. Do you remember the date?”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry wheezes, “The seventh of July. I remember they feared it would rain.”  
  
“Yeah,” Liam forces a grin, “But, it didn’t. It rained the day before, so everything was lovely and green. I remember that you couldn’t sleep the night before. Remember me, you, and Gemma went for a walk after dark. We walked all the way down to the moors and laid in the damp field just like we did when we were kids.”  
  
Harry chuckles dryly, “Yeah, and Gemma complained the whole way back about how her nightgown was soaked and how she’d need another bath.”  
  
“Yeah,” Liam smiles, more genuinely this time, “But, we had a good long talk, the three of us. Then, the next day, you were difficult to wake up.”  
  
“Always was,” Harry smirks, “Now, I just can’t stay asleep.”  
  
Liam’s smile fades immediately, “Anyway, we got ready on time somehow, and even had tea. Gemma had a bit of a meltdown, but you went in and worked your magic-“  
  
“Don’t-“ Harry scoffs, “Don’t use that word.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Liam flushes, “I meant it as a figure of speech-“  
  
“I know,” Harry breathes deeply, “I just don’t want to hear about magic.”  
  
Liam nods, deciding to change the subject, “But, you talked to her, and whatever you said fixed her right up. Do you remember what you said?”  
  
Liam notices how Harry’s eyes glaze over, but his smile is ever-present, “Yeah, I told her that she’d never find another man to put up with her bullshit.”  
  
Both men laugh before Harry continues, “But, then I told her how I loved her and how proud mum would have been of her. I told her that-“ he chokes back tears and takes a deep breath, “I told her that it was her best chance out of there. Away from our father.”  
  
“Have you- um,” Liam glances to the mirror sitting atop his master’s desk, “Have you seen her recently?”  
  
Harry nods slowly, “I try not to often, but yes. She’s pregnant, Liam. She’s going to have a baby. God, I just hope it’s a boy. He can take the throne in my place. I would let him in a heartbeat. Maybe the curse will be released if there is another heir. Maybe we can be free; Maybe I can be a normal lad. One who’s every move isn’t scrutinized.”  
  
Liam wants to tell him not to get his hopes up, but that doesn’t seem like the best way to get him in a good mood. He opts for continuing their conversation about Gemma, starting off with the only thing left he could think to ask, “Do you miss her?”   
  
While Liam knows the answer, he awaits Harry’s response.  
  
“Of course I fucking miss her,” Harry shoots back, “I miss her almost as much as I miss Mum and _him_.”  
  
Liam nods, but notices that Harry quickly cools off from his sudden outburst, “Do you want to talk about him yet?”  
  
Harry takes a long sip of his scotch, draining the glass, “No use in speaking of the dead. It won’t bring him back. To this place, or that.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean he never existed, Harry,” Liam presses, feeling more confident after the pleasant conversation so far. Pleasant, that is, compared to the usual conversations Harry has lately.  
  
“Don’t you think I know that?” Harry spits, “I think about him every day. He’ll always be important to me, and I wouldn’t give up the memory of him, even if it meant I’d get out of this hell-hole.”  
  
Liam nods slowly, feeling the hot tears reaching his eyes, “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“I am too,” Harry reaches for the bottle of scotch, “I know I’m not the only one suffering here. You’re all stuck here because of me, and that’s why I’ll die a bitter old man. We’ll all die because I can’t love a woman. It’s pathetic.”  
  
Liam stands now, approaching Harry quickly and kneeling at his side, “Not pathetic of you, though. Pathetic of your father. Harry, don’t ever blame yourself.”  
  
“No matter how often you say that, Li,” Harry breathes shakily, “I’ll always blame myself.”  
  
Liam closes his eyes, and wishes things were better. He almost forgets why he went to check on Harry in the first place.  
  
“Sire,” Liam stays where he is, kneeling on the floor and unsure of what to say exactly.  
  
“What?” Harry leans over, resting his elbows on his knees and noticing a change in Liam’s demeanor.  
  
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but I feel that I must tell you-“ Liam pauses again, having never decided how to explain their conundrum.  
  
“Tell me what?” Harry seethes, angry before he’s heard the undecided words.  
  
“We- uh,” Liam clears his throat, not daring to stand, “We have a guest.”  
  
__________  
  
When the door of Louis’ new room swings open, he surely isn’t expecting what he sees.  
  
A tall man with a mess of brown waves is stomping toward him, his screaming so loud that it’s impossible to understand. The man, Louis decides, reminds him of a bum on the streets of Paris, what with the ratty clothes and the tangled hair. Louis pushes the covers off of his body just in time for the man to lunge at him, his fingertips bruising his biceps as the stranger fumes from over him.  
  
“Casse-toi!” Louis curses, pushing on the man’s chest as hard as he can, “Get off of me! Who are you?”  
  
The taller man scoffs and refuses to break eye contact, “Who am I? Excuse me, but who are you and what are you doing in my castle?”  
  
Liam rushes in a moment later, his face pale and stricken.  
  
“Liam! Who is this mad-man?” Louis yells, still trying to release himself to no avail.  
  
The man is much stronger than he looks, and appears much younger from so close up. In fact, Louis would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit mesmerized by his attacker’s dynamic green eyes.  
  
“Har- Master, please,” Liam begs, afraid of the reaction he might get by trying to physically pull him away from Louis, “He’s not a harm to anyone.”  
  
“How do you know?” The master grits his teeth, standing up and pulling Louis along with him. He pushes Louis against the nearest wall and tightens his grip on his arms, “He’s just a stranger. What if someone sent him here?”  
  
“No one,” Louis gulps, more afraid than confident now as the man he now knows is the Master curls his fingers into his skin roughly, “No one sent me... Sir.”  
  
Harry’s expression changes all at once, the soft voice coming from the small man he’s still holding onto calming his mind. It’s as if he’s only now realized how he’s acting.  
  
He releases his grasp, but holds onto Louis’ shoulders lightly instead, staring him down with an intent expression, “Then how did you get here?”  
  
Louis glances over to Liam for some help, but Harry’s hand is squeezing his face, turning his attention back to his pretty eyes, “Don’t tell me some bull-shit you were told to say. Tell me the truth.”  
  
“I chose to come here, but I was pulled through a mirror at a club,” Louis pauses, his cheeks stinging from Harry’s fingers, “In Paris.”  
  
Harry lets go of Louis’ jaw and massages his own temple instead, one arm still holding Louis against the wall, “What is your name?”  
  
Louis smirks, his confidence back in full ever since Harry’s hands stopped digging into him, “Louis. What’s yours?”  
  
Harry’s eyebrows furrow, confused, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
  
“I was just asking to be polite, Harry,” Louis laughs dryly, “Under any other circumstance, I’d ask you to be my Prince Charming.”  
  
Liam almost butts in, sure that he warned Louis before not to test his boundaries. He went through hell to just tell his master about the visitor, and here is taking cheap flirty shots at him, disrespecting his authority.  
  
“Yeah well,” Harry chuckles darkly and steps away from Louis, taking him and Liam both by surprise, “It’s too bad princes aren’t gay.”  
  
“Ha!” Louis laughs dramatically as Harry walks toward the door, his shoulders pushed back in confidence, “History’s seen many gay princes; they’ve just been dishonest.”  
  
Harry pauses in the doorway, but decides to keep walking, leaving without another word.  
  
Once he’s out of earshot, Liam closes the door and groans, “Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”  
  
Louis crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, “I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
Liam grits his teeth and tries to breathe before he explodes, “I told you to cooperate.”  
  
“Yeah,” Louis grins, “Well, he was asking for it.”  
  
Liam’s jaw drops as he stares at Louis, dumbfounded, “I’m surprised he didn’t lock you away. Don’t push your luck, mate.”  
  
“I’m not threatened by him,” Louis laughs, “Give him a bath and I’ll bet he looks like a lost puppy.”  
  
“Cut the shit!” Liam yells in frustration, “You’re new here, but let me tell you what. When the master isn’t brooding and angry, then everyone is happier. Don’t push his buttons. That’s the first rule.”  
  
“Well,” Louis sits back down on his bed, “I should have told you sooner: I don’t follow rules. Now, I’d like to get some more sleep in hopes that I’ll wake up and it was all a dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.harryisproudoflouis.tumblr.com) <3


	6. v. amourette ou amour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii! hope you all like this chapter <3  
> enjoy this gif of zayn slapping louis' ass. it's for the chapter :p
> 
>  

**M o d e r n  D a y  P a r i s**  
  
“Fuck,” Eleanor mumbled under her breath. She doesn’t remember getting home last night, but when she rolls over to look at her phone, it’s dead. She groans and feels her stomach grumble. She feels absolutely nauseous.  
  
I’m never tripping with Louis ever again, she thinks as she kicks her covers off of the bed. She’s wearing her outfit from last night, and she can feel the leftover make-up on her face.  
  
She yawns and groans as she stands up, making her way to the kitchen, her phone in her hand.  
  
She plugs it into the charger and turns on the coffee maker so that it can heat up.  
  
While she waits, she walks over to Louis’ door, which is closed. She knocks quietly at first, but when there is no response, she thinks, fuck it, it has to be late. She knows she slept a long time. She opens the door, and it’s completely dark, like Louis always has it at night. The curtains are pulled, so she walks over to his bed and simply lays on top of the comforter.  
  
“Louis,” she whines. “Wake the fuck up. You’ve got work tonight.”  
  
She reaches her arm over blindly, wishing to slap his arm or something. What she comes into contact with instead, though, is a cold, empty pillow.  
  
“Louis?” She grumbles, confused.  
  
She leaves his bed and turns on his light. Everything looks the same as it did yesterday, his bed unkempt as usual, and the clothes he wore earlier yesterday in a pile on the floor. Eleanor shuts his light off and walks around the flat, checking the bathrooms and living room. It's official: No one is in the flat but her.  
  
She decides to call him when her phone turns on. He probably shacked up with some lad at the club, she thought. It wouldn’t be totally unlike him, but she remembers almost everything from last night, and she doesn’t remember Louis meeting anyone.  
  
Then again, she doesn’t remember getting home.  
  
She doesn’t think much of it, though, and makes her coffee and some breakfast without much worry.  
  
Her phone turns on while she’s eating her egg on toast, and she has a few voicemails and text messages. None of them are from Louis, though.  
  
Before checking any of her notifications, she dials his number. It doesn’t even ring.  
  
 _“C’est Louis, laisser un message. Je vais probablement oublié de vous rappeler.”_  
  
Her heart sinks at the beep and she leaves a quick message, “Louis, just wondering where you are. Call me when you charge your phone.”  
  
What if he did shack up with some lad? And what if said lad was a crazy serial killer? Eleanor won’t ever forgive herself if something happened to Louis while they were out together.  
  
She knew the LSD was a bad idea. She _told_ him  
  
“Fuck,” she mutters to herself for the second time this morning when she sees the time. It’s nearly five in the evening.  
  
She finds Michael’s phone number in her phone, knowing that he’s the only friend of Louis’ whose number she has.  
  
His muffled answer comes on the third ring, “‘Ello?”  
  
“Mikey, it’s Eleanor,” she quickly says, unsure of what she’s going to say.  
  
“El, how are you?” He asks, sounding a bit surprised.  
  
“I'm-Not good, actually. Lou persuaded me to do acid with him last night, and I feel right shit,” she groaned, walking over to the couch and lying down, covering herself with the soft blanket thrown over the arm rest.  
  
“Good on you, then,” he laughs. “Was it fun at least?”  
  
“Yeah,” she admits honestly. “I actually really liked it. A bit life-changing, yeah?”  
  
Mikey hums and clears his throat, “I’m actually with someone right now. Did you need something?”  
  
“Oh,” Eleanor clears her throat, “yeah sorry. Have you heard from Louis?”  
  
The line is silent for a moment, “No, I haven’t. He didn’t come home with you?”  
  
Eleanor gulps and feels her nostrils burning a bit, “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember coming home, but he isn’t here and there are no traces of him being here today.”  
  
“You really should have stayed together,” Mikey scolds carefully. “When did you see him last?”  
  
Eleanor feels the tears brimming her lids now as she racks her brain, “I-I really can’t remember, Mikey. I guess at the club. He-He went to the bathroom. I don’t know!”  
  
“Christ,” Mikey curses. “You’re home now?”  
  
She nods before she answers aloud, “Yeah, I am.”  
  
“I’m coming over,” he sighs. “I don’t work tonight, but he does, yeah? We’ll retrace steps and then go to the club tonight. Hopefully it’s all a misunderstanding and he’ll be on stage naked.”  
  
“Thanks,” she chokes back sobs with a light chuckle. “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
“Of course,” Mikey breathes deeply. “I just hope he’s all right.”  
  
That’s all Eleanor hopes, too.  
  
....  
  
 **M e a n w h i l e**  
  
  
When Louis wakes up, he’s still at Cheshire Palace, and it wasn’t all a dream.  
  
Perrie is there, though, and she jumps a little when Louis stirs.  
  
“Morning, Louis dear,” she chirps, and he really starts to wonder how she stays so chipper in this dull place. “How did you sleep?”  
  
Louis shrugs and yawns dramatically, “All right, I suppose. I’m feeling a bit, how do you say confiné, being locked up in here.”  
  
“Oh, confined? Yeah,” Perrie nods solemnly, “we can take a walk if you’d like. The Palace grounds are quite beautiful in autumn. Perhaps Zayn would like to join us.”  
  
“Don’t get your panties all dripping before breakfast, love,” Louis teases, noting how easily she blushes.  
  
“I’ve got breakfast for you in the dining room,” Perrie mutters in thought, “but what do you mean? Zayn and I are-”  
  
“Just friends?” Louis interrupts, looking fairly proud of himself. “That’s what they all say, and the next thing you know, they’re fucking on every surface of your _shared_ flat.”  
  
“That sounds like a specific personal memory,” Perrie chuckles.  
  
Louis does as well, wondering what Eleanor is doing. He wonders if she’s realized his being gone yet, “Yeah, but the story’s still the same. You’re ‘friends’ until you’re not. Besides, have you forgotten that I’ve seen the lad? He’s definitely crush-worthy.”  
  
“It’s not like that,” Perrie persists, trying to convince herself more than Louis. She already knows he’s set in not believing her.  
  
“I’ll wash up and meet you back here,” Louis announces as he swings his legs over the mattress. “I believe you promised me food.”  
  
“Of course,” Perrie smiles, snapping herself out of her thoughts. “I’ll get you a fresh change of clothes and lay them out on your bed. Would you like anything else?”  
  
“A toothbrush would be splendid, honestly,” Louis smacks his dry lips in distaste.  
  
Perrie wipes her hands off on her black and white dress instinctively and nods, “There are extras in the restroom. They’re next to the towels under the sink. Shower stuff is all there too.”  
  
“Thanks, cherie.” Louis nodded and grinned before leaving the bedroom to shower.  
  
Perrie immediately makes the bed, pulling the sheets up and fluffing the comforter like she has so many times before. She rearranges the pillows and steps back to ensure that they all look neat and even. When she is satisfied, she leaves the room and walks down the hall to Zayn’s room. She knows she would be better off asking Liam for clothes, but she tells herself that Zayn is built more similarly to Louis.  
  
Really, she just wants to see Zayn.  
  
She knocks at his door and hears grumbling from the other side.  
  
“Zayn, it’s me,” she whisper yells, turning the knob slowly.  
  
She peeks her head in first and spots Zayn’s sleeping frame face down in the pillows, “Can I come in?”  
  
“‘Course,” he mumbles, but doesn’t move to get up. “You’re always welcome here, Pez.”  
  
“Thanks,” she blushes, fidgeting with the hem of her apron as she steps into his room. “I-um, just needed some clothes for Louis. Do you have some you could spare?”  
  
Zayn hums in thought and shrugs, “You know my clothes better than I do. Take whatever.”  
  
“Thanks, love,” she whispers, walking over to his dresser. “Breakfast is ready whenever you’re hungry. Louis and I thought it would be a nice day for a walk. Would you like to join us?”  
  
Zayn finally rolls over and Perrie tries not to visibly sigh as his eyes flutter open slowly.  
  
“Yeah,” he grumbles, yawning and squinting at the light shining through the window. “I could go for a good smoke and some fresh air.”  
  
“If you’re not careful, you’ll be out of tobacco by December,” Perrie scolds, sifting through the drawers for something suitable.  
  
“I’ll try to work on getting a stash with the next drop,” Zayn shrugs, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Come for a cuddle, won’t you?”  
  
Perrie knows she should say no, but she also knows that she can’t, “Just a moment, I’ll be done in a second.”  
  
Perrie pulls out some clothes, taking a few options because Louis seems to be the picky sort. She folds them and places them in the chair by the door, and then walks over to Zayn’s bed. She sits on top of the covers, laying down in the space next to Zayn. He wraps an arm around her waist, and Perrie tries to steady her breathing. Zayn’s forehead rests against hers, and she grins at her best friend sweetly.  
  
“You’re so needy in the mornings,” Perrie teases, brushing some of his hair away from his face.  
  
“I’m always needy,” he chuckles, kissing her cheek briefly. “Don’t know what any of us would do without you, Perrie.”  
  
“Starve or kill each other probably,” she kids, huddling her hands up against her chest.  
  
“Yeah,” Zayn laughs. “That’s definitely what we would do. Thank God for you.”  
  
“Yep, I’m a life-saver,” she chuckles nervously. “Now, get up so you can eat and get dressed.”  
  
Perrie hugs Zayn briefly before standing up, ignoring the way he tugs at her wrist to keep her there. She gathers the clothes she left on the chair and turns around one last time before leaving the room.  
  
Zayn is standing there, completely bare, his cock half hard against his thigh. He’s yawning and stretching, and Perrie gulps before turning away, “Christ, you could have waited.”  
  
“You told me to get out of bed!” He yells after her, laughing and obviously quite proud of himself.  
  
Perrie was just proud of herself for not dropping to her knees right there.  
  
They both accomplished something, really.  
  
...  
  
Louis and Zayn eat together while Perrie cleans up the kitchen.  
  
It’s a bit awkward, because Louis is obviously still the odd one out.  
  
“So,” Zayn draws out slowly, “tell me about yourself.”  
  
Louis hums, eyes flitting around the large, decorated room. Everything looks like it was once so nice. Perhaps the Palace has digressed after only having one person cleaning it up, and four others tearing it apart.  
  
“I’m twenty-two, I’m a literature student at La Sorbonne, and I live with my best friend, Eleanor. Christ, she’s probably worried sick about me.” Louis bites at the inside of his cheek and leans onto the table, taking another bite of oatmeal, “Anyway, I work as an exotic dancer most nights. It’s shit, but it’s good money.”  
  
Louis glances up at Zayn and sighs in relief when he finds him eating without a care in the world. He doesn’t even look surprised.  
  
“You’re not going to reprimand me, or call me a whore?” Louis chuckles and Zayn shrugs.  
  
“You’ve got a nice arse, and if your arse can make you money, then you would be a bit daft not to use that to your advantage,” Zayn grins as Louis laughs.  
  
“You’re a wise man, my friend,” Louis sighs and takes a sip of his tea, still laughing a bit.  
  
“I see you’re getting on well,” Perrie smiles as she enters the room. “I’m glad.”  
  
“Louis here is a stripper,” Zayn grins. “Maybe we should have a Palace talent show or something.”  
  
Perrie reaches over and smacks the back of his head playfully, only prolonging the men’s fit of laughter.  
  
“Positively crude,” She rolls her eyes, finding it impossible not to laugh along with them. “Are you prats ready for a stroll yet?”  
  
They both nod, and Zayn stands up, taking their plates from the table.  
  
Perrie tries to take them from him, but Zayn shakes his head, kissing her forehead mindlessly, “I’ve got these, Pez. Go change or summat. Get comfortable.”  
  
Perrie blushes as he walks away, finding Louis smirking at the head of the table.  
  
“I told you, didn’t I?” Louis winks and pushes himself back from the table, gathering the two teacups still left, “Don’t ignore the man, go change!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://www.harryisproudoflouis.tumblr.com) <3  
> i follow back and i don't bite...hard ;)
> 
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and motivate me to write quicker


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